


You Jump, I Jump, Jack

by BelovedCreation



Category: Gilmore Girls, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3397538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelovedCreation/pseuds/BelovedCreation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why does Emma Swan frequent Killian's diner? Three reasons: the coffee is outstanding, her son Henry insists it is the best breakfast spot, and Killian Jones has a really nice ass. (Gilmore Girls-inspired AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Jump, I Jump, Jack

The first time Emma Swan meets Killian Jones her eyes aren’t quite open and her body is heavy, her frame hardly suited for the weight of a long day at the Storybrooke Inn.

"I need coffee," she grunts, squinting up at the figure who comes by with a notepad, only making out dark scruff and black hair. He chuckles and returns a moment later with an empty cup and a full pot of coffee.

"Do you need me to leave the pot, love?" he asks, his deep and accented voice climbing into her weary brain. She takes a single sip of the coffee and, deciding it is the best thing she has ever drank, nods and hopes he understands that she and the coffee pot must never, ever, be parted.

It takes another ten minutes for two cups to disappear and her sanity to appear. As she pours herself a third mug, he comes again and she finally gets a good look.

_Rugged_  is her first thought, followed by  _manly_  and  _sexy_  and  _tasty_. And finally, with another sip of the rich dark brew, she thinks  _giver of the caffeine._ She decides immediately that Killian’s will be her new diner of choice. Emma orders her breakfast and when he comes back with a warm plate of eggs and bacon she takes a bite of toast, beams, and asks, “Are you Killian?”

"I am. Killian Jones." He sticks out a large, rough hand for her to shake (she does so after wiping the bacon grease off on her pant leg).

"Emma Swan."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan. Are you new to town?"

She shakes her head and swallows a mouth full of egg. “No, Henry and I usually have breakfast at Granny’s Pancake World. But this coffee...” She takes another gulp of caffeine and sighs in contentment. “This is  _so good_.”

"Henry?" One of his eyebrows rises and she recognizes the question for what it really is: searching to see her marital status.

Emma nods nonchalantly, taking another bite of eggs before responding. “He’s my son.”

* * *

 

The first time Killian Jones meets Henry Swan he has no idea what to say.

Henry Swan has the same wide grin and shining eyes of his mother and the two of them burst into his diner at promptly 8:15, chatting a mile a minute and hardly taking a moment to breathe.

"Henry, this is Killian Jones. Killian, my son Henry," Emma smiles when he comes to collect their order.

The lad looks up at him with glowing brown eyes and a mischievous smile (oh yes, just like his mother). “Are you my new daddy?” he asks.

Killian sputters and nearly drops his order pad in shock, mouth opening and closing like a codfish. After a beat, the two Swans double over in laughter.

"Henry was kidding. Tell him that you're kidding."

"I'm kidding."

"So you father is-"

"Dad lives in Boston." The boy takes a gulp of coffee (Is he too young to be drinking the stuff? He looks around 12.) and continues breezily. "Mom got pregnant when she was seventeen but she never married my dad." Henry's shoulders slump and he gives his mom a melodramatic look. "I am sadly lacking in male role models."

"Stop it." Emma musses his mop of brown hair and gives him an affectionate look of exasperation, making clear just how close mother and son are. "You get plenty of male bonding time with David."

Killian blinks several times rapidly, trying to keep up. "And- and David is?"

"The chef at the Storybrooke Inn. Which I manage."

He tries to take their order quickly before he gets sidetracked once again.

* * *

 

The first time Henry Swan sees his mother and Killian Jones together, he has a suspicion, but doesn't say anything.

* * *

 

When Walsh proposes, Emma is pretty sure she is supposed to be over the moon. The nice dinner and the ring on the dessert table and the way her son had smirked when she got home and asked how big the rock was. But there's something nagging the back of her mind and her stomach flip-flops when Killian appears on a bench at the engagement party in the town square and when Killian carves her a beautiful chuppah covered with fish and waves and mermaids.

So on the night of her bachelorette party, when Mary Margaret sneaks away to talk to David and Ruby texts Billy and Anna just chats on the phone with Kris right at the table, Emma's fingers end up hovering for a long time over a name that is  _not_  her fiance's.

"Give me a minute," she half-smiles, sneaking away from the girls and stepping outside to lean against the bug.

"Hello, sailor."

"I thought I told you not to call me that, love."

Emma's stomach does the usual flip at his deep voice and she can feel the corners of her lips turn up. "You do have a boat, don't you?"

"True enough." She can picture the slight shrug that accompanies his words and imagines him pouring coffee for a customer at the diner. "Is tonight the night of the big bachelorette party? Shouldn't you be shoving crumpled bills into a greasy g-string?"

She scuffs her boot against the pavement. "Oh, is this not 1-800-Pasty-English-Phone-Sex? I must have dialed the wrong number."

"Allow me to butter your crumpets, darling."

Emma snorts at that one and it turns into a silly little hiccup thing.

"Why Miss Swan, are you drunk?"

"Maybe." She hiccups again. "Quick, ask me a question, any question you're dying to know. When I drink I get loquacious."

There is a long, agonizing pause. Emma even starts to wonder if he has hung up the phone. But when he finally clears his throat and asks his question, it isn't the one she thinks he will ask, the one she has been asking  _herself_  every night for the last several months..

"You are a special breed of badass, Emma. Why have you chosen to spend your life running an inn, of all things?"

It comes out of the blue, and perhaps that is why she answers it without any wisecracking or filtering.

"I grew up in the foster care system and no place ever really felt like home. The dads would either smack you around or ignore you, the moms were only in it for the government money. The other kids would steal your stuff. When I was with Henry's dad, we spent a lot of time sneaking into hotel rooms to use their clean bathrooms and get quick naps on used sheets. And I," she pauses, remembering something from long ago, "-I really liked it. They were beautiful and welcoming and even if I knew we couldn't stay long, it was nice to have a place to myself for a little while. So whenever I have a guest at the Inn I treat them like I would have treated my 17-year-old self and I make them feel at home."

The little burp that punctuates the end of her story doesn't seem to phase Killian, who lets out a low  _hmmm_  before he responds. "Did you find your home with your lad then?"

"Hey, sailor, you've used up your one question already."

He chuckles under his breath and she really can catch the sound of coffee pouring in the background this time. "Fine, breakfast will be on the house tomorrow if you answer this one."

She sighs, picturing her son's round face and his growing limbs and how he is made up of the best of her and Neal. "When I am with Henry I am always home."

"Might I ask a final question if I promise a week of free breakfasts?"

Emma's heart thumps again and she knows that he will finally be asking a dangerous question, one she does not want to have to face now, a week before her wedding. She gulps, considering, before the warm rush of too many shots begs her to let loose and not over-think.

"Last one."

"Do you feel at home with Wash?"

The next morning Emma enters Killian's at an ungodly number, even before the tempestuous Leroy has appeared for his morning danish, and she leans against the counter with a half-smile for the proprietor. "I'm here to cash in on a week of free breakfasts."

Killian rolls his eyes and plops a coffee mug in front of her with a faint  _chink_. "Good grief, woman, did I honestly promise you that? You  _were_  rather drunk, perhaps your memory is exaggerating."

"Don't back out on me now, sailor," she grouses after taking her first sip of ambrosia. "I have a cancelled wedding that I still have to pay for and a week of breakfast will be the first step in re-balancing my checkbook."

There is a moment where his eyebrows shoot upwards and his eyes fill with confusion and - perhaps - a question. But his face returns to neutral and he takes a gulp of his own coffee before he speaks again.

"I hope you know that this offer only extends to you. I can't feed a 14-year-old boy for a whole week without going out of business."

"No fair!" she shouts with an accusatory finger. "That was not stated in the original agreement!"

* * *

 

Killian scratches behind his ear and gives him a wary look and Henry decides to finally take pity on him.

"Chill, Killian, you don't have to give me the sex talk."

The diner owner's eyes grow wide and he coughs a bit before replying. "Are you sure, lad? Your mother told me you wanted to speak to a man about your, erm,  _urges_  and you requested me and-"

Henry rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might pop out of his head and settles on the couch of Killian's pristine apartment above the diner. "Do you really think I haven't gotten the safe sex talk a million times already? Mom was pregnant at 17."

Killian slowly seats himself on the recliner and gives Henry  _a look._  "So what are we discussing, lad?"

"My mom."

"Ah." He nods briefly, face closed off, but Henry can still detect that glow Killian gets whenever his mom appears - or is even mentioned. "What about her?"

"I think its time you ask her on a date."

"And why would I do that?"

"Let's cut the games, shall we, Killian?" Henry stands and crosses over to the kitchen, opening the cookie jar and hoping to find chocolate chip. "You and my mom and crazy about each other and she and Walsh have been broken up for almost a year. If you don't do something soon," he takes a large bite of the sweet and mumbles his next words around the sugar and chocolate, "she's going to find some other weirdo in this town."

"And if your mother is  _crazy_  about me as you suggest, why is she not asking  _me_  on a date?" Killian crosses his arms and Henry thinks he looks like Mary Margaret and David's son Charlie when he pouts.

"Because Mom won't say it, but she still thinks that every guy is like my dad and just going to leave her." Henry tries to speak without bitterness. He loves his dad, he really does, but Neal doesn't hold a candle in Henry's heart to his fierce, strong, loving mother. And Henry's number one priority is for his mother to find her happiness - even if that means it is with someone other than his biological father.

"Henry, lad-" Killian starts, but Henry cuts him off with his hand.

"I'm not a kid, Killian." Killian gives him a look and Henry snaps, "I'm fifteen and I'm in high school. And Mom and I watch enough movies for me to know what it looks like when two people are in love. Just- just give it a shot."

He grabs two more cookies and gives the shell-shocked man a grin on his way out the door. "I'm taking these, and if Mom asks, you answered all of my questions without contradicting her sex talk two years ago."

* * *

 

"May I have this dance?" Killian holds out his arm and holds in his breath as he waits for Emma's answer. Storybrooke is having another one of their insane yearly festivals, this one including a full band and people wearing funny clothing. With Henry's suggestion from a few weeks weighing in his mind and the lovely smile and flush on Emma's face as she sits down between dances with her son and David all all the rest of the crazy citizens of Storybrooke, Killian had found his feet moving before he realized it.

"Yes you may." She bounces up, always a bundle of uncontrollable energy. But when the song shifts to something slow, he wants to groan at the stench of cliche about the whole scenario. Emma steps closer to him, eyes fluttering before finally meeting his, and all the breath leaves him again.

"So where's your costume?" she asks, half-smiling.

He scoffs. "I'd prefer to look like a normal human being if I can help it."

"But all this flannel?" She tugs at the material of his sleeve and he suddenly imagines what it would be like if she kept pulling, hands frantic and lights low in the privacy of her bedroom. "Do you even own anything else?"

"Of course I do, love." He almost bristles before slowly licking his lips and leaning closer, smelling the sweetness of her perfume. (Is it cotton candy?) "But I am still waiting for the right occasion to wear something special."

"Like?" An eyebrow rises. "A date?"

"Perhaps."

"I didn't think you went on dates. Not since..."

She trails off and nibbles her lower lip and he can tell she is afraid that she has hit a nerve, that she has offended him.

"You are correct. I have not gone on a date since Milah left. Again."

"But now?" Her palm feels slippery against his own and Killian wonders if she is as nervous as he is, if she can feel the music slowly drawing them together and the heat of their bodies so close. "Are you ready to date again now?"

Killian looks right in her eyes, no blinking, no smirking, and hopes she understands his meaning.

"I am."

He walks her to her door, laughing to himself that Henry is nowhere to be found and Emma has given up looking, trusting that he will not get in too much trouble. They stand on her porch, his hands in his pockets, hers in a twisted jumble behind her back.

"Thanks for walking me home, sailor."

And there's a twinkle in her eyes that doesn't happen every day and isn't always directed at him, but when it is he feels his heart jump into his throat and his vision get clearer.

"The pleasure was all mine. Although, if you were truly thankful, perhaps an act of gratitude is in order." A grin spreads across her face, slow and hungry, though when she takes a step forward he still flinches. "What are you doing?"

"Will you just stand still?" she whispers. Then she kisses him, soft and lovely, and the feel of her curves against him makes his bones turn to jelly and his heart stop beating altogether. Because his pulse would be too much noise right now, and all he wants to hear are the soft moans in the back of her throat and the gentle brush of her fingers across the small hairs on the back of his neck.

She pulls away, still grinning, and he takes a step forward of his own.

"What are you doing?" she asks, but this time it is a challenge.

"Will you just stand still?" He practically growls, and his lips are hungry and they need to taste her, they need to learn the feel of her because three years is a lot of time to make up for. His fingers dig into the back of her neck, into the wispy hairs he would stare at whenever she put her hair up in a ponytail. And his other hand traces the curve of her waist, where this silly costume for a silly town festival accentuates the loveliness of her body and had him staring at her all night.

"Mmmmm," she mutters when they break apart, her weight still leaning on him. (Perhaps as unbalanced as he is.) "So we're going on a date then?"

"Yes, lass, we are going on a date."

* * *

 

Emma spends about two hours trying on outfit after outfit for her first date with Killian. But when he arrives to pick her up and gives her one look with those baby blue eyes, it is like she isn't wearing any clothes at all.

_Good thing Henry's in Boston with Neal for the weekend._

Killian takes her to a sweet little restaurant outside of town and she discovers there's so much she doesn't know about him, so much he doesn't know. Their childhoods, their wishes, their dreams. He is attentive and sweet and as charming as always.

Before the dessert comes out, he takes her hands in his and gives her that serious look, the one that makes it so she forgets to breathe.

"I know you are scared, love," he says, low and earnest, "and I cannot play that I am not a bit afraid as well. But you must know that I am all in."

"All in?"

He brushes a lock of hair off of her shoulder and a soft smile blossoms on his face, revealing those sweet dimples she has always wanted to kiss. "From the day I met you, I was infatuated. So it would be bad form for me to neglect to inform you that when it comes to me and you  _I am all in_."

Emma nods in a distracted sort of way. No one has ever told her this on a first date. "All in?"

"Aye."

This should scare her. Because such a declaration is either to get her guard down or because the guy has a creepy obsession. But Emma's looked in his eyes a million times and she knows that there is no lie here. And no obsession. Just... well, just something that could be love, or at least could turn into love. And for the first time, it doesn't scare her.

"Sounds good," she finally says, smiling. "I'm all in too."


End file.
